Oh, good – it’s not just me. That’s okay then. I’ve found if you use your back button after you think you’ve lost a post, it will come back (at which point I copy it just in case). I’m sure it will get worked out.

Nice to see a little flurry of messages here, even if it is about Artist tours I can’t go to and whether or not the site is working, hahaha. Any conversation here is good. Anna, I just can’t get over your talent at taking a germ of an idea (murder on a tour bus) and running with it. All the characters seem very real…. Well done!

Hi Cathryne. Always great to hear that you are ok. One of my friends has just jetted off to Ireland to see her family there so it must be the season! We were debating what clothes she would need and warm ones was the result.
I am sorry your grand daughter had an asthma attack. They can be very scary but it sounds like you did well in the crisis. Must be time for gummy bears and time with LP.
There are more posts but I can’t see the next page of the Bistro. It just won’t load! Hello to whoever is there. I have more story but I won’t post until I can figure out if this is working!

Thanks Julie! Might have to turn it into a book!
Paul, the problem for me is sometimes the Bistro just doesn’t load. I get gamacheseries.com in the browser bar but a white screen. It has taken me multiple attempts to get here. Have we overloaded the page limit!?

Oh and after I press post comment the screen reloads blank and I can sometimes refresh the page a few times from the browser bar and it will come up and sometimes I just get a blank screen and can’t get back in.

Fox was impressed that the landscape gardener only looked back with a now passive gaze. There was no trace of ebullient character from the day before. Freddie showed a trace of anxiety biting his lower lip. No doubt they were pondering which way to play their next move. If they were completely innocent of any crime then there would be no harm in being open with Fox but the boys were not talking…yet.
“I followed a link from your website to that of the sculptor. Angel is quite an artist and very much sought after but that particular style of sculpture is exclusive for your use.” Fox looked between the photograph on the table and Julian, who had developed a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Freddie had gone pale.
“This image isn’t on your website where you so proudly display your portfolio of work but I am fairly certain this is one of your gardens. When did you complete it?”
“Five years ago,” sighed Julian finally. “It remains my favourite job so far.”
“Because of how it turned out, or because it is where you met Freddie?”
There was a little gasp from Freddie, presumably at the extent of the Inspector’s knowledge. Fox had been busy. He had found the photograph of the garden and sculpture while flicking through Whitmore’s file and went on to find a list of staff employed at the time of the man’s death. While he hadn’t been present on that fateful night, the chef at Whitmore’s mansion had been none other than Freddie Moore.
“He was a nice man and a good boss,” Freddie admitted when presented with the facts. “Not very demanding when it came to food and he let me try a whole range of dishes. I got on well with his assistant Marcus Collier too. It was Marcus that listened to my interior design ideas. Whitmore was happy to go along with them and he encouraged me to think about design as a career. When he died, I did. He left money for all of the staff to support them while they found work.”
“Why do you think a man in Whitmore’s position would take his own life? He was wealthy, barely fifty and in good physical condition. Was he lonely? Depressed? What drove him?”
“A bit of both possibly. Something was definitely bothering him in the months before he died. He wasn’t eating much and goodness knows I tried hard to make things he would like. He spent a lot of time in his study with Marcus at night putting together plans, making calls to countries around the world for business and charity work. I sometimes did a light supper for them. Whitmore was quite a philanthropist.”
It was not the character reference Fox was expecting. It did not tally at all with the vision of a man selling chemical weapons to terrorists that Morrisey had presented. There was still no obvious link to their current case. How did Evangeline Purdue fit into the picture? Her name did not appear in the Whitmore file but there had to be a connection.
Collie finished her coffee and stared at the two gentleman finally fixing her gaze on Freddie Moore.
“How long did you work for Brendan Whitmore?”
Freddie looked sad now rather than anxious.
“Five years.”
“You would have seen a lot of people come and go around the mansion.”
The one time chef shrugged. “Some. I wasn’t confined to the kitchen. But if you want to know about Whitmore’s visitors, you would be better off asking Marcus. He was the keeper of the keys so to speak.”
“We will when he gets here. Turns out he still lives in the village of Whetton Hills, not far as it turns out, from where you and Mr Attwater have a cottage.”
“It was Freddie’s home when he worked for Whitmore. We don’t get up there much anymore,” Julian said. “Marcus keeps an eye on it for us. He really is a nice bloke.”
Fox leaned forward with a stern expression. “Who is Evangeline Purdue?”
Julian glared at him. “A nasty woman who died on the bus.”
“A very nasty woman,” whispered Freddie.

Tried to post but had an error in my Email address. The name and Email slots were empty and I must have made an error. The turkey looked and sounded so good I considered changing our menu for Easter. I’ve never eaten chestnuts. We, my family, use pecans in our dressing/stuffing and cook it in another pan not in the turkey. We also make a dressing/stuffing using oysters but no nuts.

Barbara – after years and years of yearning for “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire” I found myself somewhere where there was a street vendor selling roast chestnuts… I immediately bought some, popped one in my mouth and…. spit it out! It was horrible! I can’t imagine anyone liking them unless I got hold of a bad bunch somehow… I’m still intrigued, but my next foray will be much slower…. I wonder where they get the dried chestnuts… will have to go exploring online today.

Anna – here’s some directions – I’ve never seen fresh or jarred chestnuts here, but it sounds like some stores will have them. I don’t normally shop at Whole Foods, but might look for them next year and give them another try. http://startcooking.com/how-to-roast-chestnuts

Thanks Julie. I won’t be in the States for Thanksgiving this year but I will for Christmas. I am going to start thinking about our Christmas Feast. Chestnuts will definitely be involved. As the time approaches I will be looking for more ideas to have an American Christmas.

Lunch was just being served in the dining room when a constable interrupted the interview in the library. Fox allowed the boys to join the rest of the tour group, for now. Things were finally starting to happen. The constable informed them that a flask had been found in a dumpster behind the Eden Hotel where the tour group had stayed the night before Evangeline died. A very special kind of flask as it turned out and it contained traces of NAX13. There were no fingerprints on the outside of the container, it had been carefully wiped clean, but there was a partial print just inside the rim. It was been processed as a matter of urgency. The second breakthrough was also down to fingerprints. A match from a long ago arrest in a domestic violence dispute.
The constable had a third piece of information to impart. An inquiry into Nexus that Collie had initiated had returned an interesting result. The charity was mysterious but well financed. It had only been established for a couple of years and appeared to be concerned with raising money for children’s services in developing countries. Management of the organization was hidden behind layers of shelf companies but when Nexus had been registered in Switzerland one person’s name had popped up.
“So, what’s the plan boss?” Toni asked.
Before Fox could answer, another constable approached with a man dressed in cord pants and a checked shirt. The Inspector recognized him from the Whitmore file but Marcus Collier appeared older than the photo Fox had seen.there were grey streaks in his short brown hair and lines around his drooping green eyes.
The constable who escorted Collier from Whetton Hills rustled up a pot of tea and sandwiches for Whitmore’s former assistant. He drank the tea but the sandwiches sat untouched at his elbow while he stared at the postmortem photo of the victim.
“She hasn’t aged well but then neither have I,” was Marcus’s first comment.
Fox studied the other man’s tired appearance and the nervous way he twisted the gold ring on his left hand.
“She died with the name Evangeline Purdue but it was not the one she was born with,” commented Fox.
Collier snorted. “Marisa changed her name the way I change my socks. She called herself Maya Hall when she worked at the factory. I didn’t even know it was her until she had been there a year and by then it was too late. We just didn’t know what she had done.”
Marissa Brownlea had been born in London where she was cautioned for shop lifting as a teenager. She escaped with a warning and had become a secretary and an actress. She married Marcus Collier briefly in her twenties.
“It is embarrassing to admit it but she beat me regularly, with her fists, lamps, ornaments, whatever came to hand. I ended it when she attacked me with a knife. I was hospitalized and she was arrested but I still felt sorry for her somehow. She agreed to a divorce and I agreed not to pursue the charges.”
Fox nodded at the wedding band on Collier’s hand. “Did you remarry?”
Marcus shook his head. “No. I never wanted to. The ring helped with that, although you would be astonished as to how it attracts some women rather than putting them off.”
“What happened to Marissa?”
“She changed her name, as I said, maybe to hide her past. She had some minor roles in TV soaps and continued some secretarial work. She contacted me at times, when she needed money. Then I lost track of her until a few years ago when she turned up at the factory as a Personal Assistant to the chief scientist. I didn’t have much to do with the factory but Brendan hosted parties for the workers at various times. Imagine my surprise to encounter Marissa, calling herself the widowed Mrs Maya Hall at a work Christmas do.”

Cathryne, asthma attacks in children are frightening. I’m so glad all worked out well. After reading your post I spent some time recalling my trip to Ireland. The countryside was beautiful and the people were very friendly. I always like to leave the shops and walk into neighborhoods and meet the people. If I see someone in their yard, I’ll stop and talk to them. I find people willing to talk to the strange tourist. It is a wonder that no one has ever thought me lost from my group or in need of help. I am an elderly woman with white, white hair so I would understand. We were not allowed to leave the tour bus in Northern Ireland – a real disappointment. Hope your family enjoys Ireland as much as I did.

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